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The last hippy poet of the woodstock generation

Excerpt-6:  A poem about the ocean.

like cream puffs squeezed 
the foam oozes out of the curling waves 
standing languid row by row 
searching for breakfast by the edge of the sand 
morning surf birds peck sleek 
their silky feathers 
as a new sun slowly warms them 
then scamper suddenly to avoid getting wet 

young surfers brave the winter chill 
each for a few moments 
of early morning thrill 
one screams out in glee 
and far away I catch the echo 
I can almost see the gleam 
of fulfillment in his eye 
as he straddles the sky 

I awoke this morning 
to the sound of waves 
and a train passing down 
below my beach-side bungalow 
I saw purple shadows 
—of sunrise 
as I closed my eyes 
to meditate 

the sun is now reaching 
where I sit on the porch 
as I finish morning coffee and ponder . . . 
sheltered passengers in flashing windows 
of the iron horse that braves the same sand 
as young surfers 
and morning surf birds 
—scampering 

(San Clemente, sunrise)

"Shadows Of Sunrise" ​- © C. Steven Blue 1/16/1998
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  • Books
  • Poems
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  • Trademark
  • Blog
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  • contact
  • Personal Links
  • Writing Resources